


Wine Tasting

by Colubrina



Series: Christmas Fics [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Don’t copy to another site, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21706054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colubrina/pseuds/Colubrina
Summary: Hermione receives a wine tasting class as part of an anonymous Secret Santa exchange at work.  Draco Malfoy is the only other student.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Christmas Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480730
Comments: 28
Kudos: 262
Collections: Best of DMHG





	Wine Tasting

Hermione looked down at her watch, then up at the clock on the wall. Both agreed. It was ten past the hour. She was on time, she was here, and the teacher was late. This was not the most auspicious way to start out a wine tasting class.

Though, really, it had been a pretty cursed class from the start. She’d gotten it as part of a Secret Santa exchange at the Ministry, and she’d been charmed. It was an expensive gift and a thoughtful one. She’d been talking at the coffee pot just the week before about how she wanted to learn more about wine and look what someone had gotten her. A semi-private class with a French sommelier in January.

Who was late.

Ron had told her it was a ridiculous thing. “It’s not like you can afford any of that fancy wine,” he’d said. He’d called her a social climber, and accused her of looking down on his family because they were poor. As a fight, it had come out of nowhere, then seemed not so much surprising as inevitable. He’d stormed out and done that thing he did where he waited for her to come back and smooth things over. Only this time she hadn’t. She’d kept picking up the gift certificate for the class and weighing the heavy card stock in her hand. Ron had given her a book she’d already read. It had been sitting on the kitchen table for over a month and, somehow, he hadn’t noticed. She was tired of not being noticed, of being taken for granted except when she was useful.

She wanted to know about wine. It wasn’t a crime. She liked wine, and museums, and trips abroad, and Ron liked cottage pie and beer and talking about Quidditch down at the pub. They weren’t bad things. They just bored her. And, if she was being honest, cottage pie reminded her of boarding school food and not in a good way.

Maybe she was a snob, and maybe it was ridiculous, but she’d decided on the wine tasting, and that had resulted in her ending a relationship, so it better be worth it.

It was now fifteen minutes late starting.

She sat down at the little oak table and was beginning to wish she’d brought a book. Waiting was much less uncomfortable when she had a book to read. She didn’t need to explain why she was sitting around, doing nothing. She didn’t need to feel awkward. She was glancing at her watch _again_ when the door opened, and a tall wizard she didn’t know walked in. He had four bottles tucked under each arm, several glasses floating in front of him, and Draco Malfoy behind him.

Hermione’s jaw clenched at the last of these. 

“Malfoy,” she said as politely as she could manage. They both worked at the Ministry. They’d been courteous for several years now. She could do this. She’d never had to work directly with him, of course, which she’d never stopped to appreciate until now that it looked like he was the only other student in the class. But it would be fine. Though, this really was the most ill-fated Secret Santa gift ever.

“Granger,” Draco Malfoy said with a tip of his head. “You’re looking well.”

He pulled out a chair and sat next to her as the wizard – clearly the sommelier – sat out glasses with fussy precision the consulted a sheet of parchment. “I have more bottles to get,” he said, and swept away, leaving Hermione alone with Draco Malfoy for what might be the first time ever. 

She forced a smile. “We must have had the same Secret Santa,” she said. That he should randomly sign up for the same class was far too coincidental to be true. 

“Indeed,” he said. “What luck.” He glanced uneasily at the door. “Perhaps I should go help M. Frambois with the bottles he was looking for.”

A small piece of paper fell out of his pocket as Malfoy hurried from the room, surely eager to get away from her, perhaps even going off to see if he could reschedule. Hermione accioed the scrap over so she could return it to him – no reason not to be helpful with little things, neither of them were children anymore, and the war was long over – and idly read what it said.

It was a receipt for the wine class. Dated the day after she’d mentioned at work she was interested in taking one.

She’d once told Ron she was highly logical. It didn’t take immense logic to figure out Draco Malfoy had overheard her comment and bought her a gift. Which would have made sense if he’d been her Secret Santa. It wasn’t as if they got to choose, after all. Names were drawn out of a hat. But it didn’t make any sense at all for him to be the other participant unless –

Hermione slid the receipt down into her own pocket and began to smile. When the sommelier and Malfoy came back, carrying eight more bottles between them, she scooted her chair over so they could put the bottles down on the table. “Did I tell you at work that Ronald and I broke up?” she asked.

Draco sat down next to her. “No?” he said, his voice cautious.

“Apparently being interested in wine makes me a snob and he found that untenable.”

The sommelier sniffed. “Wine,” he said, “is for everyone, and an appreciation of wine, like an appreciation for good food, is part of being civilized.”

“Ron didn’t agree,” Hermione said.

“Then you are better off without him,” the sommelier said. He began to open the first bottle.

“I quite agree,” Hermione said, “but as a result of that, I find myself eating quite a bit of takeaway. It feels a bit pointless to cook just for myself.” It was an opening, and she tossed it out casually, watching Draco Malfoy out of the corner of her eye to see what he’d do. The sommelier sniffed again, his opinion of takeaway more than clear, but it was Malfoy’s reaction she was interested in.

“You shouldn’t not eat after a class like this,” he said. His voice wavered between cautious and his more usual sneer. “I can probably manage to get us a reservation, even at last minute like this, just because you’re not competent at feeding yourself.”

“I mean, if you can,” Hermione said airily. “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

He could. Dinner was lovely. A bit tipsy, maybe, as they’d swallowed far more wine than M. Frambois recommended, but lovely.

Dessert at her place was lovelier still.

She didn’t have any eggs though, or bread, or really anything else, so when they woke up, hungover, hungry, and surrounded by dozens of bottles of wine Draco had bought at the end of the tasting, she began to laugh.

“What is it?” Draco asked. He somehow managed to sneer even at 9AM, even with his hair tousled and no clothes on, which made Hermione laugh even harder. How had she never realized he was absolutely, utterly delightful. She leaned forward to kiss one side of that sneer and felt it soften under her mouth as he opened his lips.

“If you want breakfast,” she said, “it’s either wine or takeaway.”

They got takeaway.


End file.
